


freaking out the neighborhood

by agentpolastri



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, dark!eve, eve is topping because i said so, mentions of worship kink, sexy murder!, they go to church. goes about as well as expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24989695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentpolastri/pseuds/agentpolastri
Summary: Let it be known that Eve always found a way. Especially when it came to Villanelle. What was that quote? There is some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.Nietsche. What a dick.—In which Eve and Villanelle engage in some sexy murder activity while at a church.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 8
Kudos: 151





	freaking out the neighborhood

Ornate gold and white marble were the predominant themes of the decor in the St. Theresa Basilica on High street. The doors always stayed open to welcome the general public inside to gaze at its wonder, its grand splendor, the blatant luxury that built the house of God himself. A large wooden cross towered over the pews at the very forefront of the entire building, like a giant, comforting friend, or a looming dark figure bringing judgment to you unlike any other. 

Eve sat in the very first wooden bench near all of the candles and the cross and resisted the urge to laugh for some reason. It was desolate today, not a soul in sight. Either the churchgoers had dissipated or she had wandered in at a time that it was supposed to be closed. She suspected the latter but didn’t care. 

Leaning back to observe her surroundings further, she posed herself the biggest question she possibly could, given where she was: _did_ God exist? If so, where was He? Why did he let Eve’s life go completely to shit the way it did? And, you would have thought by now, that he would have put a stop to her and Villanelle’s antics. It’s not like they were completely bloodless affairs, after all. 

Eve and Villanelle were essentially the pinnacles of sin. It was hard to tell which one of them was worse, right now. She had secretly been keeping count since they had begun tracking down operatives belonging to the Twelve. If she wasn’t mistaken, she was catching up remarkably fast. 

In some of her darkest moments, she thought about digging up all of the non-existent graves she had created for her past victims to make a large monument for the Twelve. Let them know what was coming for them. Let them figure out who was doing it, or let them cower in fear when they weren’t able to place a face to the atrocity and give credit where it was due. Perhaps they would ask her to work for them if they were smart. If they were any smarter, they would try to kill her where she stood. If they were the smartest, they would kill her before Villanelle. 

Let it be known that Eve always found a way. Especially when it came to Villanelle. What was that quote? There is some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.

Nietsche. What a dick. 

Since departing with Villanelle to truly step into the role of one of two dancers in their twisted tango, Eve had managed to somewhat tamper down the building fury inside of her by funneling it into other activities. She could feel it sometimes when it got too bad, when all of the memories were too vivid—Kenny spattered all over the hot cement, crimson blood on a barn door, Bill’s worn hat fraying at the edges while it sat six feet underground with the rest of his corpse. In those moments, they felt like hours made her want to shed her skin and glisten in the sunlight with her new one. They made her want to rip apart whole houses and smash them back together because she could. 

In those moments, she felt powerful and heady, something like Villanelle on the bus that day. Only there was no one to give her a kiss and a smack on the forehead. There was her, her anger, and her bloody hands. Three potent weapons.

Eve stared at those same hands now in the basilica and deemed them filthy with sin. Solid footsteps on the hardwood floor brought her attention to the present in time to see the priest coming out of one of the side doors. He continued to the desk directly in front of the cross completely unaware until the movement of Eve’s head catches his attention.

“Hello there,” the priest said with a smile that made the edges of his eyes crinkle into crow’s feet. “I’m sorry, but we are currently closed to the public for housekeeping purposes. They are testing for asbestos in the old compartment of the church.” 

Eve looked at him for a moment, then let her features crumple dramatically, her neutral facade breaking down with a thunderous roar as she bent over and sobbed into the same hands that had cupped a man’s neck earlier that day.

“I know, and I’m sorry, Father, I’m just—” Eve hiccuped and sniffled, “I’m full of all of this guilt, and I don’t know where to put it. I thought that being here would help me, even for a moment,” she whispered brokenly. The priest stood there in minor shock and weighed his options before deeming that it was too much to leave a sobbing woman in the pews—and certainly too much to kick her out in such a state. He approached her in the bench and sat next to her.

“My name is Father Matthew,” he said gently. Father Matthew offered a hand for her to take. She slowly looked over at him, questioning, and he nodded.

She took it. 

It felt like desecration. He wouldn’t be any wiser.

“Tell me, child of God, what troubles you so?” He asked. Kind warmth radiated on her when the priest gazed down upon her, hands collapsed together tightly. It wasn’t a confession booth, but perhaps this whole thing was rather unorthodox.

Eve had never considered herself particularly religious anyways. Not unless it came to worshipping assassins and traveling the globe to follow the trail they had left, walk on the same ground they had walked. Only one assassin, of course. All of the others were too plain. Too humble. Too.... un-Villanelle. 

Like The Ghost. Discreet. Textbook. Plain. 

In another life, she probably could have pursued a job as a designer or something with an eye for the flashier things. The way she dressed now was leaps and bounds away from her original MI5-condoned attire, and maybe it was because she had finally unlocked all of those other parts of herself that she, frankly, had never known existed. Not completely. 

Villanelle also helped. A lot. It had been grueling to get away from the baggy clothes that cost ten quid at most. She still had a turtleneck or two, but they fit _deliciously,_ as Villanelle liked to say. Or demonstrate. With her hands and lips, of course. 

She often ended up buying a new turtleneck as an apology.

“I’m in love with a woman…” Eve began. The priest nodded understandingly. “... With a woman half of my age,” she finished. Father Matthew pursed his lips. 

“Have you actively pursued this desire? Have you taken any action?” He asked after a moment of thought. 

“Oh, God, yes,” she said, then shot him a quick apologetic glance. Matthew didn’t seem very impressed. “Well, it was more like the other way around at first, but then things changed, and…” She sighed. “I ended up chasing her, afterward. I know it’s sinful. The Bible doesn’t condone it,” Eve added. Father Matthew nodded solemnly.

“This is true,” he stated, then squeezed her hand. “Do not fear, child, you can still seek repentance and renounce your ways. Sit and pray with me, together, and we will cleanse your soul of your misgivings, for it is God’s audience you seek, and not mine,” he said. The priest took a breath to begin the prayer, then paused. “What is your name, child?” He questioned.

Eve stewed in silence for a moment. “Eve,” she finally said. Matthew’s eyes darkened, and he slowly let go of her hand but didn’t move away.

“Eve,” he replied. “That is very ironic, isn’t it? I see you have devoured your forbidden fruit.” 

She piqued an eyebrow. Caught, was she? 

“Don’t be so condescending, Matthew,” she chastised. “You have had more than your fair share. Were you expecting to have your cake and eat it too?”

Father Matthew opened his mouth to reply, which was a mistake because Eve took it as an opportunity to stick the pistol she had been harboring in the little bookshelf on the pew directly into it and promptly fired off a shot. Blood spattered behind his body to stain the wood in a lovely shade of red. She watched as he fell back into his own viscous matter and stained the clean white of his robes. 

“That was pretty anti-climatic,” Eve muttered to herself. She took up and began dragging his corpse to the forefront of the church. The two of them got caught between the pews and for several awkward moments, she struggled to shove a dead body out from between the wooden benches all on her own. 

“Need a hand?” A second voice rang out. Eve didn’t have to turn around from where she was elbow-deep in pulling on Father Matthew to know who it was. 

“That would be great,” she grunted as she strained to move his leg, which was now at a weird angle and vaguely resembled a flag pole. Villanelle came in from the other side and lifted the bottom half of the body without some struggling on her own.

“You were taking a little longer than usual, so I decided to check in,” she explained. “God, this is a fat priest,” she continued with a bit of a wheeze. They tottered up the central aisle while following Eve’s lead before dumping him directly in front of the cross. Eve paused to take a breather and smiled over at the other woman.

“That’s considerate of you. Got the ladder?” She questioned. Villanelle nodded and pulled it out from behind the velvet curtain that acted as a backdrop for the cross. Together, they mounted it on all four legs and looked up at the daunting task ahead of them. 

“Do you want the honors, or should I?” Villanelle proposed. Eve sucked on the inside of her cheek before giving a half-shrug. 

“I think that you’ll have more of a chance of recovering if you fall,” Eve joked. Villanelle snickered and began climbing the ladder.

“I’ll take that as an answer, then,” she called down. “Pass him up. I have everything in my pockets already.” 

It was a little rougher than either one of them wanted to admit when Eve half-threw the priest’s corpse up the ladder to Villanelle. She awkwardly let his legs balance on her shoulders as the assassin pulled him up further and managed to hook him on the cross. Several minutes later, his hand and feet had been nailed to the wood rather efficiently. 

They stood back and admired their handiwork. Blood still dripped down the cross and the curtain.

“Not too bad, if I do say so myself,” Eve mused. She tilted her head and pretended to be an art critic, even going as far as to frame it with her fingers. 

“Looks like a postcard I would buy at a museum,” Villanelle chirped. “But he does not look like bacon. He just looks very, very stupid. Too bad we did not have a crown.” 

Eve breathed out. “I didn’t think of that,” she sighed. “Smart place to hide someone in an organization like the Twelve, though.” 

“Not smart enough for you,” Villanelle remarked with a grin. She snaked an arm around Eve and pulled her closer until they were chest-to-chest. “You found him so fast, it was kind of hot.” 

“Only kind of?” Eve teased but draped her arms over Villanelle’s shoulders. She ran her fingers down the curves of her back and played with the baby blonde hairs that hung down from her bun. 

“Maybe everything you do is hot,” Villanelle relented. “Maybe I will make a church dedicated to you. Or something else equally as bad and corny. You would appreciate that, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, definitely,” Eve agreed sarcastically. “You can worship me, but it gets creepy when anyone else does it. I don’t want any more _Father Matthews_ to contend with.” She soundly pressed her lips against Villanelle’s before she could muster a reply to that. The assassin responded in kind by deepening it with a soft noise of approval, her hands coming up to tangle in the black mass of curly hair on Eve’s head.

Eve hoisted Villanelle up to wrap her legs around her hips and carefully walked them up to the desk in front of the cross. She dropped Villanelle onto it and followed suit to crawl up her body. She gazed down at her to take in the sight of the blonde properly riled up, a flush on her face and her hands impatiently pulling at Eve’s clothes until she obeyed and bent down. 

“We definitely don’t need a church,” Villanelle managed to gasp as Eve latched onto her neck. “I am great at worshipping. But not in a very God-abiding way,” she continued, then keened as Eve bit down particularly hard at the junction of her neck and shoulder. In the back of her mind, she secretly thanked herself for wearing such a low-cut top. It provided much more easy access for a moment that she hadn’t properly anticipated.

Eve propped herself up over Villanelle and gazed down at her with swollen lips. “I mentioned us to Father Matthew,” she said with a chuckle. Villanelle groaned from underneath her. 

“Don’t bring up the fat priest when we are just about to have sex! That is _not_ sexy at all,” she complained. “Like, we were about to discover a worship kink, Eve. You are ruining the moment.” 

Eve looked taken aback. “I’m just saying that he wasn’t very pleased! You should have seen the look on his face. It was hilarious.” Eve sat back on her legs at that point and began tying her hair up before it inevitably got stuck in either one of their mouths. Definitely not from past experience.

“Now,” she said cordially, “I’m going to eat you out on this desk in front of the dead priest, and then we’re going to go home, shower, and get takeout. Okay?” 

Villanelle grinned wolfishly at her and nodded enthusiastically.

**Author's Note:**

> just a fun little one-shot :^)  
> @topeve on Tumblr!


End file.
